Ties That Bind
by Mika Lero
Summary: With the death of her sister, Sola Naberrie must now shoulder a burden she never wanted.
1. Chapter 1

It was night. The stars were endless, and the universe, expansive beyond end. One could easily lose themselves in an attempt to try and comprehend it all at once. The second Queen to assume the public name of Amidala sighed, feeling her shoulders slump under an unseen weight. It had been ten years. Ten long years.

"You're Majesty?" interrupted the man sitting on her left. The tired Queen looked up, clearing her throat. "My apologies Governor. You may continue."

"Are you alright? It is late, and we can continue this tomorrow if you wish."

"No. The delegation and I leave for Coruscant in the morning. These matters must be dealt with and settled now."

The man nodded respectfully. Turning back to the rest of the gathered ministers and officials, he went on with his address. A holographic model of the Capital was projected into the center of the circle. "We've been able to clear the debris and rubble from the central districts and are ready to begin tearing down buildings that remain too structurally unsound to try and repair."

"Are current appropriations sufficient for your cause, Governor Nalast?" asked the Queen, her white-painted face surveying the model and the specifications it displayed. The damage was not quite as extensive as first anticipated, but the costs for rebuilding and repair were still likely to be very, very steep. The Governor fidgeted a moment, seeming to struggle with how to word his response.

"At our present rate, the final reconstruction stages will be reached in the outer districts in two years' time. Our calculations have indicated that funds will be depleted in half that time."

There were murmurs among the assembly. The Queen's eyes fell on the Minister of Finance. He was a reedy, middle aged man with large eyes and a shrewd air. "Is it feasible to divert money from the Administrative Offices?"

"I wouldn't be inclined to say so, your Majesty. At the moment, almost all of our branches are already being forced to operate under budget, and most of those severely so."

Not surprising news. The planetary economy was teetering on the brink of collapse, and everyone was feeling the noose tighten. The Queen folded her hands, and looked deep in thought. The whispy, ghost of a man spoke again.

"We could pull funds from Relocation and Housing."

A larger, huskily built man across the throne stood up immediately to protest the idea, face red and neck bulging. "Preposterous! Half the city and most of the countryside would be starving and out in the streets without…"

The Queen raised both her hands to silence him. "Enough. Minister Galent, I understand how many lives depend on the aid our government provides. I will not allow your support to be compromised." Standing up, she stepped down off her dais and stopped at the center of the assembly. Looking up at the massive digital display, she contemplated it a moment before turning it off.

"Gentleman, our first duty is to meet the needs of our people. Do not forget that."

Thalen, the Finance Minister spoke again. "My Queen, there are precious few options left. We simply have nothing left to spare. We must make sacrifices if we are to continue, or a third of our cities, including Theed itself will still be in ruins ten years from now." Again the whispers returned, engaged in more heated debate. Thalen was correct about one thing; they simply had no more left to give. Not on their own at least. The Queen's eyes traveled from face to face. From minister to official, from guard to handmaid. They were all people she'd come to know, and like all her people, she cared for them and their well-being very deeply. For a moment her gaze lingered on Colonel Panaka. He was a man given to deep thought, but his expression at the moment troubled her. She turned around and returned to the throne.

"I cannot ask our people to sacrifice what little they have left. They've suffered enough. If, as you say, Minister Thalen, that we are out of options financially, then I have no choice but to beseech the Emperor himself for aid."

The initial reaction was complete silence. Then the howls of protest came crashing down on the assembly like a storm. One man's angry voice rose above the rest. "The Empire wages war on us, destroys our cities, and murders our people for years, and now you would have us crawling to beg from them?" Another joined in.

"We have only just rid ourselves of Imperial garrisons, and now you would _invite_ them back?"

In a moment of weakness, the Queen pressed a palm to her forehead to ward off the aching that had begun there, just behind her eyes. It had been a decade since what the Naboo had come to know as the beginning of the years of great sadness. The destruction of the Jedi Temple and the beginning of that galaxy-wide genocide, the dissolution of the Republic, the birth of the Empire, and perhaps most disheartening of all, the death of the first Queen Amidala, their most beloved ruler and crusader. Naboo had been one of the first worlds to resist the Empire. The Rebellion had in many ways started there. But Palpatine's wrath had been swift and terrible. It was Panaka who spoke up next.

"You've all but said it yourself, Minister Thalen. We have no other options. What else would you have her Royal Highness do? Allow us all to starve to death?" His voice was firm and commanding. While many continued to scowl, unhappy at the prospect of resorting to Imperial aid, they were silenced.

The Queen gave a silent nod of thanks, then motioned to Nalast's seat. "Governor, you may continue."

* * *

The lights of the city outside glimmered unusually faint. They had always been less brilliant than the stars, but nowadays life and pleasure the people took from life was dying. Day by day it was dying as hopelessness grew greater, and conversely the prospects of any return to the way things were grew dimmer. Fast approaching 50 years of age, she simply felt too old for this. Leadership had never been her forte. But circumstances had shouldered her with the burden of the monarchy whether she wanted it or not. It just didn't seem fair.

She gripped the railing of her balcony just a little more tightly, pushing away such thoughts and memories. They would make her bitter more often than not, and she had no time to dwell on her own resentment. Her head turned to the side hearing footsteps behind her. With a gesture of her hand, she dismissed her lingering handmaidens.

"Are we ready Colonel?" she inquired, facing out towards the view again.

Panaka nodded, replying in a soft and low voice. "Preparations have been completed, your Highness. We will be ready to leave at daybreak." His voice betrayed his concern, and his uneasiness about the excursion, though more so with concern at the moment. He had known the Queen for many years prior to her recent election, and had served her family for just as many with a loyalty none could question. He was the quickest eyes on Naboo, and would march straight into death if it were asked of him. After a pause, he ventured to voice his protests once more, though he knew there was little chance of actually dissuading his monarch.

"May I speak openly, your Highness?"

She turned around, a quiet smile on her lips, but no trace of lightheartedness in her eyes. Panaka had aged a great deal in the past decades, more than he may have in other circumstances. Age, worry, and the burden of command during the dark times of the Clone Wars, and now the dominion of the Empire had peppered his hair with grey and his face with heavy lines. "You know you do not have to ask my permission. I have always welcomed your input Colonel."

He bowed his head, relaxing his more rigid, formal stance shortly afterwards. He took several steps forward until he stood by her side. Slipping off his helmet, he ran a hand over his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. Joints were stiff, and had to be cracked on occasion. "I understand that you must go to Coruscant and receive the Emperor's approval of your office. But your Highness…Sola, please look at me." He took her by the shoulders and she could not help but look him straight in the eyes. They were warm and soft still. She pressed her palm against his cheek and smiled again sadly.

"I know. But I have to try. I _must_ try. She still believed in him, even until her last breath. She would have wanted him here."

The man sighed and stepped back, dropping his hands to his sides. "It's a lost cause, and I think you know it." She turned away from him, lips pursed. There was more of an edge to his voice now. Something much more insistent. "You know what he is capable of. How can you be so sure that who you are will keep you safe?"

There was a long pause. Sola's head dropped slightly, the beading of her headdress tinkling softly. "I can't be." She admitted with a very tired voice. She wasn't young anymore. She hadn't been for a long while. She was tired and weary. Even the manner of dress in the Palace and the Capitol reflected the dark times in which they found themselves. Dark shades of grey, black, and other dreary colors had replaced the brilliant reds, saffron, and blues of the past. Drawing herself up to her full height, she turned around abruptly and spoke again, this time with firm resolution. "But I am still going to try, for Padmé's sake." The colonel shook his head a moment, before replacing his helmet.

"I think you are making a serious mistake Sola. I do not agree with you on this."

"You forget yourself and who you speak to Colonel." She snapped, inwardly regretting the harshness of her tone the moment the words left her mouth. Regardless of her feelings, her painted face remained a picture of royal indignance. Panaka stepped back another couple of feet. The sting of her tone was evident. The air of a caring, aged man was immediately dispelled, replaced with the more serious and rigid tone of an officer of his caliber.

"My apologies, your royal Highness." He said, giving a sharp salute. Without another word he left.

* * *

Fingers tapped the control board impatiently. This was trivial. The whole matter seemed redundant, unnecessary, and a punishment in its tediousness. However there was no questioning the orders coming from the Imperial Palace. That was of course, to say nothing about the logic behind them. No matter. Grand Moff Tarkin clasped his hands behind his back, stepping down the stairs of the bridge on the newly commissioned Executor. He was a gaunt, but distinguished man with a calculating gaze and brown hair edged with grey. Both admired and feared, he had been with the Empire from the beginning, helping to guide it through its infancy. Many felt him to be one of the Emperor's most valued servants, after Lord Vader of course.

Which was why this most recent assignment irritated the Imperial commander so. Escort duty. _Escort duty?_ The very thought made his upper lip begin to curl into a sneer. Why the Emperor even deigned to let anything living, let alone moving, continue to exist on that tiny, pathetic spat of a planet baffled him. It wasn't a secret that the Grand Moff wanted very much to test the Death Star's weapons systems, were they ever finished, on Naboo. But in a show of leniency that stunned most, the rebellious filth had not only been spared annihilation, but had actually been returned a level of autonomy all but unheard of within the borders of the Empire. Tarkin would have destroyed his own home planet for less. However, he had learned very early on that Palpatine's logic was…unique. With a slightly arched brow and a subtle sigh, he stopped his pacing.

The sound of the Comm station being activated and voices drew his attention. He was soon standing behind the young lieutenant.

"Well?"

"It's Lord Vader's shuttle sir. Requesting permission to come aboard."

_Do not tell me the Emperor has forced Vader to be part of this mockery as well._

Tarkin's thoughts were becoming more and more troubled. There had to be some other part to this that he was not aware of. Yes, this was to be the Lord's flagship, but last the Imperial had heard, Vader was occupied elsewhere in the Core Worlds. To withdraw him from anything was indication enough that this was a deeper matter than it appeared to be.

"Sir?"

Tarkin was brought out of his internal reverie by the nervous inquisition of the lieutenant. "Oh, yes. Do clear them. Have the honor guard meet Lord Vader in the hangar bay. I will be there shortly."

"Yes sir."

The older man turned and headed to the lift. Things were almost certainly not what they appeared to be.

* * *

The sun was fast disappearing below the lip of the horizon on Naboo. The angled light created a rich, warm glow over the city, striking the waterfall mists in a dazzling display. It was comforting to some, and disheartening to others, how the world seemed to move on regardless of their state. It made people feel insignificant.

But at least some things never change...

The main hangar bay was empty. The noise and hustle of everyday activity was gone. The entrance had been damaged in the fighting with the Empire, and no one had gotten around to cleaning anything up. It was like the entire place had been frozen in a moment and left there.

The smells and sounds that would make a mechanic feel at home weren't there anymore. One couldn't smell the burning of wires, the lingering bite of battery acid, or the char of burning engine oil. It was all too dry and clean. It felt like a museum. The proud, sleek fighters that represented their force; small, but devoted, were rotting away.

_Just like we are… _

Panaka was a man given to deep thought. He'd stayed behind when the Queen had left that morning. He sat in an old battery-storage alcove, one leg hanging over the side as his fingers tapped idly on his thigh. He worried. She had a hidden streak in her as reckless as her sister's had been. Watching the sunset, he wondered if he should have gone with her despite his own objections. Sola had let him stay. Their conversation the night before had left a bitter taste in his mouth. That he would stay behind was unspoken, and in the morning he had been thankful for it. But now…

_You're a fool… _

It was too late, either way.

His fingers curled up into a ball as his thoughts strayed into darker territory. Few things could perturb a man like Fidelius Panaka like the feeling of being helpless. The Naboo were by nature pacifists, that was true. But such pacifism did in no way mean the planet was inhabited by mere kitlings. Pride was pride, and his was infamous once upon a time. Pride in his duty, his loyalty, and his ability to do his job. Pride the Empire had taken away from him and every other Naboo who had fought and died in the past ten years.

_Traitor… _

It was the first word that would come to Panaka's mind when he thought of Cos Palpatine. The traitorous villain who probably had his heart and mind poisoned with evil the moment he stepped into the position of Senator of Naboo. There was no one in the galaxy the Colonel hated more. Not even the Lord Vader, despised though he was as well. Palpatine never did anything, nor allowed anyone else the same without a reason. The man, if he could even be called that, was a rotting pile of twisted machination and shrewd, cunning reason. It was frustrating walking right into a trap, knowing it, and not being able to turn right or left to save oneself.

Panaka pushed himself off of his perch, landing the few feet below. He began walking back towards the Palace. Pulling his commlink off his belt, he activated it.

"This is Panaka. Authorization code 22-45X-Beta. Yes. I need a line to Alderaan."

* * *

The mood among the present Honor Guards was a mixture of genuine curiosity and uneasiness. The Grand Moff was not one to cross, especially when in the mood he seemed to be in of late. To add to that, word had it that Lord Vader was arriving. That alone was enough to send shivers of anxiety down the spine of every trooper there.

Vader's shuttle had just landed. Tarkin stood at the head of the guard, a less than patient expression on his face. He was the only one on the entire vessel who genuinely had nothing to fear from the Emperor's apprentice. More than one man aboard had speculated privately about that odd phenomena. Most attributed the Governor's immunity to Vader's wrath to his long standing in the Empire, which was as long as Vader's standing some thought.

The whir of hydraulics as the shuttle ramp opened up was the only sound that could be heard. Within moments, the dark, imposing figure of Lord Vader emerged and began to walk down towards the deck of the Executor. The guards saluted in the customary Imperial fashion. Vader did not seem to notice, or care to. He came to a stop before the aging Moff.

Tarkin bowed his head. "Lord Vader. You honor us with your presence." With an extended arm in invitation, he and the Sith Lord began walking together.

"Do not patronize me with such nonsense Governor. The Emperor has requested my presence here. He said you would have a briefing ready upon my arrival."

There was more than a slight tone of irritation to Vader's voice.

_Sithspawn… _

Tarkin gritted his teeth momentarily and in a brief, but uncharacteristic show of his own displeasure, he cursed under his breath. Vader's attention snapped immediately to Tarkin's face and he stopped. A long stretch of silence, broken only by the sounds of Vader's respirator, lay between them.

"You would be wise to exercise greater control in the future, Governor Tarkin. The Emperor is not as forgiving an individual as I am."

Tarkin narrowed his eyes at Vader. Even he became uneasy at the mention of the Emperor's displeasure. There were times when he wondered if he himself were not dispensable in Palpatine's view. "My apologies Lord Vader. Perhaps this conversation would be better carried on in your chambers?"

"It would."

Vader was not much known for being verbose.

* * *

"As you know, my Lord, the Emperor has returned the right of autonomy and election to the people of Naboo." Tarkin spoke, forcing a cold professionalism to his voice. He was not happy with this, and most everyone knew it. If they didn't they were blind, deaf, and dumb. He was unaware of Vader's feelings on the matter. One thing had always puzzled Tarkin. Of all the individual planetary rebellions that had been squashed in the past decade, Naboo had been the only one Vader had not personally commanded. The task had been left to the Grand Moff.

If the news induced any sort of reaction from the seated black-clad figure, it was not apparent. He seemed to take it as he did most things; with indifference.

"I had heard. I am aware of how this must disappoint you. How does this relate to our business?" The Sithlord asked.

Tarkin clasped his hands behind his back, pondering his words carefully. He knew not to underestimate Vader's temper. It seemed to have a habit of cropping up at the worst times. For him at least.

"Lord Vader, the Emperor has commanded that the Executor escort the newly elected Monarch, her delegation, as well as a small group of Inner Rim senators to Coruscant."

Vader was silent for several moments. "I see." With the press of a button, his chair turned to face the large display screen behind him, turning his back to Tarkin. "Set your course for the rendezvous. You are dismissed, Governor."

"With pleasure, Lord Vader."

The whoosh and hiss of the pressurized door signaled Tarkin's exit. Vader remained still for a long time. Punching a long sequence of keys on his control pads, the air was one of concentration. He looked up at the display, text data already beginning to read out.

**Title: Queen Amidala II… Planet: Naboo… Species: Human… Name: Sola Naberrie… **

The silence remained, broken only by the eerie sounds of an artificial respirator.

* * *

While she didn't mind flying, Sola was not particularly fond of extended space travel. It was too quite, cold, and empty. A not so gentle tug on the large sash being gathered around her waist caught her off guard and produced a not so dignified gasp.

"Warn me before you do that again Dormé."

The mature Handmatron smiled, straightening the pillowed bow at the Queen's back. A very stately gown. Black, beaded, and somber. Fitting for the mood, she thought dryly.

"I'm sorry M'Lady…"

The Queen laughed quietly. "No you're not. I think you enjoy turning simple dressings into an ordeal. I'm an old woman now Dormé, you have to be gentle." Smoothing out the creases in the front, Sola checked as best she could over her shoulder to see how close the head of her Handmaidens was to being finished.

A half-hearted chuckle was her only immediate response. Sitting down, Sola remained absolutely still as Dormé applied the red accents to her Queen's plain white face. With a final touch up to the lower lip, everything was finished.

The Handmatron sat on the stool in front of the Queen. Placing her hands in Sola's, she looked up with visibly glassy eyes. "I'm afraid for you my Lady."

Sola placed one hand over Dormé's, trying to give reassurance she herself did not feel. "I'll be alright Dormé. I promise."

Dormé squeezed Sola's hand a little tighter. "We can't loose you too. We _can't_." Sola drew the other woman to her feet as she stood herself. They embraced.

"I can't promise much in the way of the future Dormé, but I can promise you won't loose me. Not without a fight."

The Matron looked as though she were about to reply when the tell-tale shudder of falling out of hyperspace ran through the ship. Both women looked around very curiously. Glancing towards one another, Dormé picked up the commlink and handed it to the Queen.

Pressing it, Sola inquired. "Captain, what is it? I did not think we were due at the rendezvous until 1400 hours."

The voice came back, urgent but reassuring. "Your Highness, we've just received transmission from another ship. Alderaani. They wish to come aboard."

Sola's brow furrowed. Alderaani? "Who is it Captain?"

"It's the Senator, Prince Organa."

* * *

While she was always happy to see Bail Organa, Sola was not so please when she thought of who could have told him of their mission and her whereabouts. She was sitting in her onboard throne room when the Alderaani delegation entered.

Smiling she bowed her head. "Welcome Prince Organa. It is always a pleasure."

Bail Organa had always been a handsome man, and still was. His eyes seemed a little more tired now, the lines in his face just a little more pronounced. But overall the past decade had not seen a great change in his physical appearance. He bowed graciously.

"I'm always honored, your Majesty." Looking over his shoulder, he dismissed his guards and fellows with a nod of his head. Sola did the same. Dormé looked at her questioningly.

"It's alright Dormé. Go on."

Nodding, the woman left. As she passed by Bail, her eyes cut to the side, looking at him with something almost akin to suspicion. A brief and uncomfortable moment passed, and then the Handmatron was gone.

"I'm sorry Bail. Much of our trust in everything has been shaken of late. Even those who would be our closest allies, I regret to say."

He dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. "I understand."

Before he could continue, Sola came straight to the point. In such times as these, credibility and strength of authority, at the very least to one's own people was essential. She did not care for a questioning of her judgment, even if made out of concern.

"Fidelius sent you, didn't he?"

Bail sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not like being put in between two people such as these in a conflict. It was dangerous. "He is only concerned for you Sola."

For once her temper flared. "I know my own judgment better than Colonel Panaka I think."

He looked up, quite pointedly and asked. "Do you?"

"I fail to see the relevance of that question."

"Can you really trust yourself Sola? That's my question. The Emperor is evil. Without conscience, devoid of humanity, physically, mentally, and emotionally incapable of any genuine kindness."

"You think I don't know that?"

"Sometimes I wonder. He's planning something Sola. He's got some scheme up his sleeve and you're walking blind into a trap."

By now Sola's voice was becoming exasperated and almost desperate. "What else would you have me do Bail? If I had any say in the matter, we'd be fighting the Empire tooth and nail until the last of us."

"Then why aren't you?" Bail's inquiry was harsher this time. Sola's jaw was set in a hard line, and she was growing angry.

"Because I became Queen. My purpose, my job, _my duty_ is to ease the suffering and ensure the well-being of my people."

"And the principles of the Rebellion?"

There was a long silence.

"You have little place to speak to me of principles. It's easy for you to stand on your high box of principles isn't it? Tell me, when was the last time the Empire bomb-raided the cities of Alderaan?"

Now it was Prince Organa's turn to be indignant. "We have a duty to resist them, your _Highness_. You have an obligation to fight for the cause of justice, for the people of the galaxy…"

"I am not responsible for the Galaxy, Bail. Not for you, not for Alderaan, and not for the Rebellion. My sole duty is to see that my people are not forced to suffer any more than they already have. I am not my sister, Organa. I'm not strong enough to carry everyone else's burden."

Heseemed to ponder a while. Crossing his arms, he sighed. Sola's face relaxed. He was a friend, and she could not allow herself to drive him away.

"How is Leia?"

He smiled at that. The tension did not vanish immediately, but was beginning to drain away. "She is her mother's daughter."

The Queen smiled. "I would expect no less."

* * *

There was a tremor in the Force. Everyone felt it, and knew immediately that something was wrong. The shaking from the explosions almost went unnoticed in the sudden, drenching wave of shock that doused everyone in the Temple.

The dozen children in the room began to cry as all but two of their caretakers left in a hurry. The old Master went for the door. Pressing a sequence of buttons on the comm panel, a rush of mixed and garbled sounds flooded the room.

_Fall back! Fall back!_

_Call fo…under atta…_

_Knights…Hall! Knights to…Ma …all!_

The younger Jedi, barely into Knighthood, scooped up the first youngling in her arms: a toddler with bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. None of them could have been more than three or four. The little boy clung to her tightly as she tried to herd the rest of them away to their sleeping rooms. It was hard not to stumble as her chest tightened; feeling the beginnings of a terrible battle, each death hitting her like a blow to the gut. The children were now wailing inconsolably. Only the little boy stayed quiet, looking up at her with frightened eyes.

"He's coming."

_They're too many! Back!_

_Mast…on…dead…_

_Retreating…pushing us back…chil…_

She looked to her Master with desperate eyes, looking for guidance. But he wasn't there. He'd gone. She couldn't panic. Now wasn't the time for it.

_The children! Get the children…Main Hang…ay…_

With one child already in her arms, she reached down to grab the hand of another, urging them all towards the door. The walls were shaking harder now, and she thought she could hear the screaming. They echoed in her head, and she couldn't separate the cries of her companions' hearts from those of their actual voices.

_Skywalker! I..SKYWALKER…_

Those words were shouted in chorus in her ears, and her heart first eased with relief. A sentiment echoed across the web of bonds between the Jedi.

_Tha…Force…help us._

It was not a feeling that lasted long. Her knees buckled out from beneath her, and she almost dropped the youngling in her arms. He would've fallen, were it not for the deathgrip he had to her robes.

_…leading the att…_

The sounds of blaster bolts were coming within earshot now.

_Wha…an't be…_

_That's impossible!_

Getting to her feet, she shouted at the children to move, but many of them wouldn't budge. Another group of Knights, Masters, and their Padawans were coming down the hall, lightsabers drawn. She called out for help.

_BACK! Get the chil…out!_

_No time…et…blocked in…disruption…_

It was not a moment too soon. As they scooped up the children, they did not break their stride. Clones were not far behind.

Run. Run. All they could do was run. Pray they got to the Hangar Bay before the Clone Troops did. They might have enough pilots to cover their escape. Some of them might survive. But they had to run.

A piercing shriek from behind froze her in her tracks. Smoke had started to fill the air and when she turned around she couldn't see. Everything had gone unnaturally silent. Groping around in front of her, she realized her arms were empty.

Crying out for the boy, the smoke in front of her cleared. He was standing there, trembling with tears in his eyes. But when she went for him, her arms outstretched, the sight of someone coming up behind him made her stop.

His eyes weren't human. They were a sickly mix of red and yellow, and looking at them made her blood run cold.

"Skywalker…" she whispered, feeling her throat close and eyes sting with tears. He twitched his lip. It may have been a smile, but his eyes too crazed and filled with something beyond rage. He raised his saber above his head.

She shook her head, lips pleading in a vain and silent effort. He swung down and she screamed. Everything was dark. Consciousness faded away and the last she heard was a faint whisper.

_Skywalker is dead…_

* * *

Deep in some dark, cramped cargo hold a woman awoke with a start. Wiping her sweat-soaked brow with the back of her hand, she moved to sit up, wincing as the corner of some miscellaneous box jabbed her in the back. When she opened her eyes she looked around, taking a quick headcount.

There were a dozen or so children of twelve to fourteen lay scattered in various nooks and crannies, getting about as good a sleep as any of them. A hand on her shoulder caused her to look up.

"What is it Aria?"

She rubbed her eyes, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead to ward off the headache already firmly in place. "Dreams again."

Her companion sighed, pressing his lips together in a concerned expression. Grabbing her arm, he started to pull her up to sit on top of the box. She did not protest. Turning her around, he laid his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them up and down her back.

"You haven't been meditating."

"How can I? You weren't there, you don't…"

"Don't say that Aria." He said, almost forcefully. His hands stilled, reaching around to pull her closer to him. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he was silent for a while.

"I felt it."

Aria dropped her head, a low and painful whimper coming from her throat. His arms tightened around her. There had been precious little peaceful sleep or sound mind for either of them in ten years. And that wasn't about to change.

* * *

_It was dawn, and the air was balmy. A breeze rolled through slowly, as if pushing its way through something thicker, like water. The sunlight just beginning to peek out from behind the surrounding hills hit the clouds just right, spraying the sky with pinks, reds, and oranges. _

Anakin lay stretched out on the stone railing encircling the open air patio. He made a face and tried to shift into a more comfortable position with his arms behind his head. The bare metal and clumsy construction of his current mechanical limb was irritating to say the least. Managing only halfway, he contented himself with looking back skyward. It was going to be a beautiful day. A rather festive mood had seemed to be hovering about. More so than usual that was.

Padmé watched him from the doorway, smiling quietly. He'd had to leave soon. Very soon. Anakin rolled his head to the side and smiled back. She walked over to stand beside him. He sat up, putting his real arm around her shoulders and kissing the side of her head.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"Mmmhmm."

He laughed, hugging her tightly before giving her another kiss. She pulled herself up to sit beside him and he moved to accommodate her.

"You're up early." She said with an inquiring tone, to which he only replied with a shrug. He looked up again and his brow creased curiously. Padmé, noticing, looked up as well.

"What are those up there? Hanging from the branches?" he asked, pointing to the boughs of the tree above them. They were little strips of paper with writing he couldn't quite read. Some were plain, while others were rather intricately cut and decorated. They blew about in the light breeze like chimes.

"Those?" she asked, pointing. He nodded.

"They're for the festival."

She smiled, seeing his curious look. "It's the seven day Festival of Legends we have in the summer. People write their greatest wishes on paper and hang them in the trees. The hope is that the wind will carry them to the stars and be granted by the princess that lives there."

Reaching out, Anakin ran his fingertips over the back of her hand, before moving to tilt up her chin. They looked at each other for a quiet moment before he leaned in to kiss her softly. Pulling back he smiled, cupping the side of her face and running his thumb over her cheek.

"Well, I already got my wish."

Padmé smiled, laughing softly and running her fingers through his short hair, twining playfully in his braid. "I love you Anakin Skywalker, you know that don't you?"

Anakin smirked, looking rather boyish.

"I love you more."

"Now you're just being silly…"

"Lord Vader?"

The usual sounds of his respirator came almost like an irritated hiss as the black helmeted, soulless eyes turned from where they were looking out of the bridge bay windows to the gaunt face of the Grand Moff.

"What is it?" he asked curtly.

Tarkin merely arched a brow and offered up his message.

"The Naboo Queen and Prince Organa have arrived."

Vader was silent for a rather long pause before turning and striding past Tarkin without so much as another word. Those who were in his path hurriedly stepped out of it. A last fleeting thought spoke up before he crushed the memory out of his mind for now.

_Skywalker is dead…_


	2. Chapter 2

"Have you gone completely MAD?" To say the Queen's voice was less than pleased was a great understatement. Bail raised his hands in an attempt to open a space where he might speak and placate Sola's fury. He was not successful. "Sola, please..."

Her eyes flashed and she all but shook with open rage. "I am _Queen_ here Bail Organa, and you will not forget it."

He bowed his head in a swift gesture of deference. He was taken aback by the virulence with which Sola had responded. He had not expected it. They were only children - not rebel fighters, and if he could not convince her to harbor them, he did not know where else they could go. "Highness, I-"

"How could you?" she asked, rising from her seat and approaching him. The was something more desperate and pained in her voice. "Did you think nothing of the consequences if you were discovered? My people have suffered enough Bail, I will _not_ allow you to risk what precious little remains of my world for _them_."

She turned away from him and put a hand over her face, finger tips pressing and kneading her throbbing forehead, her expression grimaced and pained. Now it was his turn to raise his voice in anger. "'Them'? You say that word as if they were war criminals. They are only children!"

"_JEDI!_" she very nearly shrieked. " They are Jedi children you idealistic... imbecilic... you wretched fool!"

He took her by the arm, a bit more forcefully than he meant to, his voice hurried and insistent. "Sola, please. They have nowhere else to go. I have kept them hidden for as long as I've been able. I do not know anywhere else they might be safe anymore. Padmé would not turn them away."

By now being drawn to the sounds of arguing, the small royal guard rushed into the audience room at the same moment a loud crack boomed through the air. Bail stumbled back more than a step or two, hand to his face where Sola's surprisingly heavy swing had connected with his jaw.

A sudden, uncomfortable silence held over the room and its occupants. Her guards shifted uncomfortably, and no one dared to speak.

Sola looked at Bail for several moments, her jaw locked and her fists tight. After a while, she felt the hot edge to her anger begin to slip away – draining through the bottoms of her feet into a formless puddle on the floor. It felt too toxic a thing to hang on to. Truthfully she didn't want to. It was fear, not anger she was most consumed with. A deep, and endless fear at the consequences for her people should such a thing ever come to the Emperor's ear. She sighed a long, deep sigh and looked mournfully up at the ceiling as if it were the night sky.

"I've told you already Bail. I am not my sister. "

Still…

"Why me, Prince? Why Naboo?"

Bail blinked, willing away as best he could the last few stars in his vision. "Practically… with the Empire's troops gone and your independence partially restored, frankly, Naboo is the safest place I – or anyone else for that matter – could think of. The Emperor's own homeworld. No one would think to look for Jedi there."

There were a few angry grumbles and mutters from the now grown crowd of guards and handmaidens at the painful reminder of Palpatine's origins. Sola turned her gaze back to him, her face a placid, unreadable expression. Taking a step, and then another towards and then past him, Sola cut her head to the side just long enough to whisper, "If you ever presume to usurp my authority like that again, I will have your manhood, is that understood?"

Bail blinked a moment, almost shocked before a bright smile spread broad over his face. He turned and bowed in a very gallant and humble fashion. "Very much so, my Lady."

She arched a brow at him and sighed.

"Dormé?"

"Yes your Majesty?"

"I want you to send Fidelius a message over the encrypted channels. Apparently we have guests on their way to Theed."

The hangar bay on the _Executor_ was large. Too large for her comfort. As she stepped off the ramp of her ship onto the cold, obsidian plated floor, Sola suppressed a shudder. Heads of State did not have the luxury of honest expression.

Her face remained as cold as the pit of her stomach as she approached the Grand Moff and the Emperor's right hand. That sight was somewhat unexpected. She hadn't anticipated encountering the Sith Lord until arriving on Coruscant. Still, it did not change things.

"Ah, Queen Amidala…" Tarkin said in greeting. His voice and the look in his eyes dripped with disdain, despite the otherwise convincing smile on his face. Sola arched a brow very slightly, her eyes cutting for the briefest of moments to Vader's.

"Governor Tarkin." She responded with a subtle, deferential bow of her head. "We are most honored by yours and his Lordship's escort. The Emperor is too kind."

Tarkin chuckled, and had she not known him better, might have thought him amused. "In that, my dear, I agree with you most heartily."

She felt a hand on her shoulder, inwardly thankful that Bail had insisted on coming with her. It momentarily stilled the spreading feeling of sick and cold down her throat and into her stomach. Tarkin's upper lip curled a moment as he regarded the Alderaani leader. "Prince Organa. I was unaware Alderaan had been invited to attend."

A dashing smile and a squeeze of her shoulder, and Bail nodded. "We haven't been. I am not here in an official capacity, Governor. I imagine you were quite pleased with the new title, congratulations."

Sola's face remained impassionate. She still didn't quite understand how Bail, or her sister for that matter, were ever able to put on such a convincing masquerade when she knew there was nothing but bitter vitriol and contempt between the two parties.

Tarkin's thin lips pursed and he arched a single brow. Oh, governorship of the still only half-tamed wilderness had pleased him. It was a veritable playground for his ruthless nature. There, he could rule with near impunity and none would question. Hands clasped behind his back he took one step forward. "Quite. However you overstep your bounds, Prince Organa. Return to your ship immediately or I will have you removed."

"You forget who you speak to, _Governor_."

"And you forget by whose grace Queens and Princes alike remain seated on their thrones."

Bail's pleasant face darkened and his expression became quite serious. Sola may not have had the sharpest political prowess or cunning in the Galaxy, but she was a talented reader of people. She put her hand on his forearm and squeezed it gently. Not here, and not over this. It wasn't worth it.

The politician's façade returned. "I serve at the Emperor's pleasure, of course – in service to the Empire." He nodded deferentially to Vader's still silent figure and to the Grand Moff beside him, turning to Sola with a softer expression. "Thank you, my Lady, for allowing me to accompany you this far."

Sola allowed the tiniest of smiles as the Prince lifted her hand and brushed the back of it with a light kiss. "Thank you, Prince Organa. I look forward to seeing more of you in the future."

As he took his leave, she turned to face the two men before her. Tarkin looked less than patient as he extended his arm in a wordless invitation to begin walking. Sola's handmaids glanced at one another nervously as the procession made its way out of the hangar and into the hall. The air was thick and uncomfortable.

It disturbed her – how he had yet to speak a single word. She had not actually laid her own eyes on Anakin since before the end of the Clone Wars. She knew she ought not to be so surprised, but she found herself deeply unsettled nonetheless by how different, cold, _mechanical_ he was now. She found her eyes drifting as he and the Grand Moff walked in front of her. She watched him, trying to find the outline of that young, handsome man her sister had brought home in the thing that was half a step before her now.

"An impressive vessel, my Lord Vader." She finally spoke, her voice betraying none of the tight, sickening anxiety she held in the pit of her stomach. Fidelius had not been exaggerating – she might very well be risking death with what she had a mind to attempt. "The _Executor_ is your flagship, is it not?"

The cold black mask turned only a few degrees to the side when she spoke. There was a brief pause as his respirator drew in another rasping breath. The reverberating sound of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Perhaps it was her imaginations that lead her to hear the tiniest whisper of his old voice – spurred by the knowledge that in what body was left; this was indeed… or had been, Anakin Skywalker. Even that was hard to discern.

"The new fleet has been designed not simply to perform with maximum force, but to present the greatest image of that force. "

Her head cocked slightly, a bitter and cynical voice in the back of her head having to admit the intelligence and logic of such thinking.

"Fear is a powerful weapon, my Lord." She said.

Tarkin chuckled, injecting himself into the exchange. "To rule by fear is to rule completely, your Highness. Little else in this universe makes men so easily helpless."

The knot in Sola's stomach unexpectedly twisted violently, and she felt as though her insides had been doused in cold water. Not understanding why she would, her first thought was to look to Vader. He was entirely unreadable, not at all surprising, though with him that meant little. The feeling passed quickly enough, for that she was thankful. What had that been?

The condescending smirk had left his face, replaced with the usual lofty superiority. "Are you unwell?" he asked, with no real sincerity.

She shook her head and held up a hand. "No, Governor, I am well. I fear I am just not so agreeable to space travel as most others."

"The perhaps it would be best for you to retire."

She and Tarkin both looked at Vader with a mild note of surprise. "It would not be wise…" he continued. "…for you to present yourself to the Emperor in anything other than your best condition."

Sola nodded her assent, and gave her best dignitary's smile. "Of course, my Lord. We _all_ serve at the Emperor's pleasure."

Tarkin huffed under his breath. Her subtle emphasis and the jab it carried was not lost on him. Of course it wasn't likely meant to. As they rounded a corner in the corridor, a selected group of the ship's officers and a small trooper guard came into view, advancing towards them.

"Ah, Lieutenant…" he said, eager to stuff the insufferable puppet away in her quarters for the rest of the trip and return to his duties. He did not know which irritated him more; that her appointment, even for show, as an independent leader spat in the face of his accomplishments, or the infuriatingly self-sacrificing pacifist mask she paraded to the Senate. "Show the Queen and her ladies to her quarters. Lord Vader, I have business on the bridge. I shall meet you there at your convenience."

He turned on his heel and strode off. Sola stood for a moment, nodding to Dormé behind her. Her handmaids filed past her, following the obedient Imperial officer. She didn't have to look at him to feel his silent, dangerous gaze bearing down on her.

"My Lady?" came Dormé's voice. She held up a hand that asked another moment.

"Lord Vader?" asked Sola in a soft, low voice that no other was likely to hear. He had turned in the other direction and was about to begin walking away when her inquiry gave him pause.

"What is it?"

Her throat felt tight, and she swallowed before continuing. "Might I have a word with you later? In private?"

The very air seemed to freeze in that moment. He regarded her intently, in eerie silence. Without an answer, he continued on his way.

Sola did not exhale until he was out of sight. She felt weak. Her face felt flushed, and her jaw tightened. Dormé was by her side, hands clasping at hers tightly.

"Come my Lady. You're tired." She urged gently.

"Quite."


End file.
